Memories
by Blood Red Kiss of Death
Summary: The women in Chuck’s life come to haunt him. A/U
1. Chapter 1: Drinking

**Disclaimer:** 'Gossip Girl' belongs to Cecily von Ziegesar, Josh Schwartz, and the CW. No copywright infringement intended.  
**Timeline:** mid Senior year; all aired episodes are fair game.  
**Summary:** The women in Chuck's life come to haunt him.

* * *

The clock struck 12 midnight. The first shot of vodka went quickly down his throat. He was not one to drink straight from the bottle, so he poured another glass. Usually it would be scotch, but not tonight. It wasn't strong enough. His tolerance was not something he needed tonight. Besides, this was for her; her favorite drink of choice.

As Chuck threw back another shot, he thanked whomever – his father apparently, because God didn't care about Chuck Bass – that he still had his suite.

He really did not want to be in the family suite right now.

_Happiness does not seem to be on the menu_, he told Nate over a year ago.

And the happy family lifestyle he was currently living in was pissing him off at the moment.

1812 was his sanctuary; the only place where he could let go.

But that was for later.

Shot three went down.

Nothing. He was still fully aware of his thoughts.

It was going to be a long morning, but hopefully all the alcohol he had stocked up would help him forget.

Vodka. Tequila. Scotch. Rum. Gin. Cognac. Bourbon. Brandy. You name it, 1812 had it.

After all, it helped her.

Or not.

Obviously it didn't.

Or else he wouldn't be drinking at the bar of his suite because of her.

* * *

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2: Wondering

**Disclaimer:** 'Gossip Girl' belongs to Cecily von Ziegesar, Josh Schwartz, and the CW. No copywright infringement intended.

* * *

"Good morning!" Lily van der Woodsen greeted her children as they sat at the dining room table.

"Hey, Mom," Serena replied as she took a sip of orange juice.

"Morning," Eric kissed his mother and took a bite of his eggs.

The three sat in a peaceful, comfortable silence for a few minutes before Lily looked around. "Hmm…where is Charles?"

Serena shrugged and rolled her eyes.

Eric took a sip of juice and shrugged, too. "I don't know. Maybe he left early to hang with Nate before school?" which meant walking through Central Park and smoking a joint.

"Hmm…" she thought. "I haven't seen him at all though. He must still be upstairs. I'm going to go check," she stood up and started walking in the direction of Chuck's room.

"Mom?" Serena paused, waiting for her mother to look at her, which Lily did. "What are you doing? Don't baby him," she rolled her eyes again, annoyed at Lily's motherly behavior towards her - _cringe -_ step-brother.

"Finish up. You don't want to be late," Lily said curtly and continued to Chuck's room.

* * *

She reached his bedroom door and knocked. A moment passed with no movement or sound. Lily knocked again. "Charles?"

Silence.

She put her hand on the door knob and twisted it. The door opened; he was not there. The bed was made. He hadn't been home last night. And Charles always came home.

She decided to discuss this with Bart. Something was not right. She could just tell; call it motherly intuition.

Lily went to Bart's office. He had received a phone call from Italy before breakfast and had needed to handle his business.

She knocked.

This time, a response greeted her: "Come in."

Lily opened the door and found her husband putting his files away.

Bart stopped when he saw the worried look on his wife's face, "What's wrong?"

"Do you know where your son is?"

"Why?" he inquired.

"Because I don't think he has been home all night," she replied.

"Don't worry about it," Bart said and returned to his work, putting a couple of files into his briefcase.

"Bart –"

"Leave it be, Lily," he cut her off sharply, in a tone she had never heard directed towards her from him.

She flinched at his harshness and opened her mouth to say something else.

He cut her off before she could continue. "I said leave it alone. This isn't your concern, Lily," his voice rose.

"Excuse me?" she paused. "We're a family. If something's wrong, let me help," she pleaded.

He let a humorless chuckle escape his lips. "If you can deal with Serena alone, then I'm sure you can understand that I can handle this without you."

* * *

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3: Discovery

**Disclaimer: **'Gossip Girl' belongs to Cecily von Ziegesar, Josh Schwartz, and the CW. No copyright infringement intended.  
**Author's Note: **So, as of 2x05, this story is officially AU.

* * *

When Lily returned to the dining room, her children had already left for school. She sat down with a sigh and picked up her glass of orange juice, taking a sip.

Minutes passed before Lily heard footsteps coming toward her. The kiss on her cheek brought her out of her empty thoughts.

Her husband was standing on her left, watching her.

When she faced him, he finally spoke: "I'll be in and out of the office all day. If you need me for anything, my cell will be with me." His tone had returned to normal, no longer tainted with anger.

"Alright," Lily replied, distantly. "Have a good day."

Bart nodded and leaned down to kiss her. Their lips touched, but both were somewhere else, lost in thought. He straightened up and walked away.

* * *

Lily spent the next thirty minutes checking her planner, making a phone call to a committee member about an upcoming event, and just sitting in the living room. She hadn't realized how dull her days were until she consciously thought about it. Usually she was constantly busy with multiple events, but she could not concentrate today. Something was wrong; she just could not identify what the problem was.

Bart's behavior earlier was uncharacteristic. Though Eric had joked once that Bart Bass only had one expression, it was not entirely far from the truth. He retained his business attitude most of the time. He never raised his voice. It always had a much more powerful affect on people. But today was different. For a moment, he lost control.

Did that mean he was aware of what Charles was up to?

That thought confused her even more. What were the Bass men hiding?

Lily picked up the hotel phone and called the front desk. The concierge was close to the men. Dexter would help.

"Mrs. Bass, how can I help you?" his voice greeted.

"Good morning, Dexter. I was just wondering…have you seen Charles leave for school this morning?"

There was a momentary pause. An awkward shift of air passed through the phone, she was sure. Because when the concierge spoke, Lily could tell that he was avoiding her real question.

"I'm sorry, Lily, but I haven't."

_Pause._

"Is there anything else that I can help you with?" Dexter continued.

She was tempted to ask him what he was hiding, what he knew, but Lily was aware that Dexter would not give her an answer. He was too loyal to the Bass men.

She sighed. "No. Thank you, Dexter."

"Have a good day, Mrs. Bass."

* * *

As Lily continued to sit on the couch, she tried to come up with a suitable explanation for the weird vibe she was getting.

Charles was missing; Bart knew where; and Dexter was in on the secret.

She tried to remember if today held any significance, but nothing came to mind. This time last year hadn't been like this, had it?

Lily stood up and decided to check Bart's office. They were a family now. Last year, with Serena, had been an impromptu situation that lasted only a few hours. This was not the same. Bart knew what was going on and Charles did not return to his room.

_His room._

The bedroom in the Palace Penthouse was not his only room.

Lily opened the office door and stood there, eyes roaming the room.

_Where would the key be?_

Bart had to have a spare. He wouldn't carry it with him, would he?

She walked over to the desk and sat in Bart's chair. Opening the top drawer on the right, all she found were files. Same with the bottom drawer. She was about to stand up and look elsewhere when she noticed the thin drawer in the center, right under the desktop.

Inside there were pens, pencils, highlighters, staples, post-its, paper clips, etc.

And there it was. A silver Palace Hotel room key. It had to be for Charles's suite.

_Only one way to find out._

Lily grabbed the key and left the office, closing the door behind her.

She walked straight to the elevator, pressed the only button and waited.

She was getting impatient, and she had no idea why. But she knew something was not right, or at the very least that she was missing something.

_Ding._

Lily entered the elevator before if fully opened and pressed the button for the 18th floor. And then the 'close door' button.

Since when did she become so impatient? Since she found her 14-year-old son bleeding to death a year ago. Moments like those – when her motherly instincts kicked in – always put her on edge and afraid for the worst.

The elevator slid open on the 18th floor and Lily walked out, strolling passed the rooms until she reached 1812.

She could knock. Then she'd know he was still alive. Although, she could have easily called the room, too. She forgot about that.

The past year and a half with her kids had been too much. Eric's suicide attempt to Georgina's re-entrance into Serena's life to Serena's wild attitude returning. Knocking did not work. Not if you wanted the truth.

The key easily slid into the lock and Lily turned the door handle. _Click._ The door opened and Lily took a couple steps inside. And gasped.

She had never seen anything like this. Even in her groupie days. Rock stars partied hard and messy. Upper East Side teens partied hard, but clean.

Lily wasn't sure where she was. It couldn't be the Palace Hotel. Because its rooms never looked like a tornado had shattered everything possible.

Standing fully inside 1812, Lily shut the door behind her and took in Chuck's suite.

The couch – the one Nate claimed – was overturned. Shot glasses and whiskey glasses were broken all over the floor. That was not the only broken glass. The mirror above the bar was in pieces. And bottles littered the suite.

Lily observed the main room. Most of the alcohol bottles were broken on the floor, but she did manage to pick up three that were still together. She placed them standing upright on the bar.

Then she went behind the bar. Nothing was there. No glasses. No bottles. Lily opened the mini-fridge. A bottle of water stood alone.

Sighing, she stood up and left the bar. Lily took in the mess and then her eyes caught the body on the bed in the bedroom.

She maneuvered her way around the glass and just stared on her stepson.

Chuck was laying on his stomach, clothed in jeans and a t-shirt, no shoes. Thankfully he was wearing socks. His hair was standing up. It looked like he had flopped face down and passed out.

Not good.

Lily entered and walked over to the side of the bed. She used all her strength to roll the 18-year-old male over onto his back.

She would have been more worried if she wasn't watching his chest rise and fall normally.

Lily took a seat on the bed and continued to stare, wondering what had caused this.

And did her husband know about this.

_Yes,_ she immediately answered to herself. That's why Bart's reaction to her inquiry had been so harsh.

But was he aware of the extent of his son's behavior?

Again, _yes,_ she thought. Dexter's pause. Someone had to clean this up, and naturally, Dexter would be informed, and so would Bart.

This meant that this was not the first time this happened.

_Why?_


	4. Chapter 4: Death

**Disclaimer:** 'Gossip Girl' belongs to Cecily von Ziegesar, Josh Schwartz, and the CW. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note: **This story is AU as of 2x05. I've had this idea since I found out that Bart is a widower in the LB wedding articles – before the finale. And the idea for this story came right after 2x04. I don't like spoilers; therefore, I knew nothing about what happened in 2x05. And since I've had this idea for so long, I will not change it to make it fit. (It wouldn't work with the story, anyway.) This chapter helps explain why Chuck's in his mood.

Also: the ENTIRE chapter is a **FLASHBACK**!

* * *

_**March 1999 –**_

Seven-year-old Chuck Bass had just finished another boring day of second grade. He wasn't learning anything exciting in his classes.

Math was easy, especially when your dad is a billionaire businessman. Chuck already knew how to multiple. Everyone else was so slow to catch on; expect her, Blair Waldorf. She was almost as good as him. Almost. He smiled as he entered his UES apartment building and got into the elevator.

He didn't care about History. He and his best friend, Nathaniel Archibald, spent most of the time talking. Why did they even need the subject? It was history! Who cared about the past anywhere? It wasn't like it could be changed. Pointless if you asked him, which was probably why his teacher didn't call on him anymore. He continued his grin as the elevator door opened.

After he set down his backpack and shrugged off his blazer, his smile started to disappear. The apartment was eerily silent. His mother usually had someone running off to do something or another. No one was around, he was sure of it.

And that scared him. Because someone was always supposed to be around; his father made sure of it.

Chuck grabbed his backpack and blazer and began climbing the stairs to place his belongings in his room.

He wasn't worried, though. His mother probably just wanted a "normal" day. He knew his parents were not the same as his friends'. The Bass' were new money. His father had made his first million after they were already married.

"Mom?" he called out as he reached the second floor landing.

Silence.

It didn't worry him, though.

Misty Bass was not crazy enough – not depressed enough – to do this. So Chuck had nothing to worry about. He just made his way to his room. It was ajar and he lightly pushed, letting it swing open.

He gave a slight smile to no one as he saw his mother. She was just sleeping. She did that occasionally – slept in his bed; it never bothered him.

Chuck ignored the empty Vodka bottles and pills. They weren't anything new. Plenty of times Misty had passed out or needed pills to sleep. Granted, his father was always home when she over drank. And Bart Bass wouldn't be home for another three hours, so she was just sleeping. That's how it went around here.

His friends didn't know. Nate, Blair and Serena van der Woodsen. No reason to talk about unnecessary things. Besides, his family wasn't a mess like Serena's. Her mom was divorced and constantly dating someone new. Sometimes they talked about that, but usually parents were not the topic of discussion.

Chuck came closer to the bed. She was so peaceful looking.

"Mom?" he called again.

He was on the edge of the bed now.

Nothing.

He didn't really want to wake her from her nap because she would be extremely irritable.

Chuck bit his lip and moved his right hand to lightly shake her bare arm.

"Mom?"

And then he swallowed and moved his hand.

It burned; her icy skin burned him.

"Mom?!" he said louder and looked her over.

Slowly, he backed away from the bed.

He might have been only seven, but he wasn't stupid. He walked around the bed to where the phone lay. Grabbing it, he dialed his father's cell without looking at the digits.

* * *

Bart Bass was sitting in a board room, having a meeting about his recent real estate buy.

As a billionaire businessman, he always had his cell phone with him. So when he felt the vibration, he pulled out the device. 'Home', it read.

And sometimes he constantly kept his phone on for family emergencies.

He quickly excused himself and pressed 'Talk' the moment his foot crossed into the hallway.

"Hello?" he questioned, unsure who would be calling. It could be his wife; she didn't really care to pay attention to when his meetings were. Or it could be a member of the staff; easy enough to handle.

"Dad?" the young voice squeaked.

Bart looked at his watch. Or it could be his son after school. And that worried him.

"What is it, Charles? What's wrong?" he asked quietly while heading to his office.

"She's…" Chuck paused and Bart's heart rate began to increase. The young boy didn't continue.

"Who? Your mother?" Bart prompted.

The boy just nodded into the phone and somehow Bart received the message.

"Chuck, where's your mother?" He entered his office without a glance at anyone around him.

"In bed," came the squeaky response. "Mine." He paused, but only long enough to take a deep breath. "Dad, she's…" he touched Misty's arm again, "cold."

Bart's heart stopped and he quickly sank into the couch he was standing in front of. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, to his 7-year-old son. No sound was made.

"Dad?"

Bart heard the panic in Chuck's voice and tried clearing his throat.

"How long?" he managed to ask. If it wasn't long, maybe –

"I just got home. Like two minutes ago. No one else is here. I think she told everyone to leave, Dad," he paused and took another deep breath. "I don't know," he answered the question.

Bart immediately stood up and left the office. "I'm on my way. Don't move her. Don't touch her. You're in your room? Leave. I'll be home in a few minutes," he told his son.

Chuck dropped his hand from his mother's body and backed away. "Okay."

Bart hung up and turned to his secretary, who looked at him questionably.

He called his limo driver and told him to be out front immediately, and then returned to the woman. "I have to head home. Please inform the gentlemen in the meeting to continue on without me and that I will get in touch at a later date." His voice was surprisingly calm.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Bass. And I'll reschedule your 4 o'clock, too."

"Thank you." And he left.

Once in the limo, Bart dialed another number, knowing his son wouldn't have.

"9-1-1. What's your emergency?"

* * *

Chuck put the phone down and started walking backwards towards the door, staring at his mother's pale body. He was going to do what his father told him – leave the room – but he couldn't stop watching her lifeless figure.

Watching made time speed up because the next moment, he heard his father's voice call out to him. And then Bart Bass was inside the room and his right hand was on Chuck's shoulder.

"Chuck," he breathed out, and then saw his wife lying in bed, her son's bed.

Bart removed his hand and walked over. Using the same hand that was just on his son's shoulder, he touched Misty's face. Ice cold. He swallowed.

Chuck just continued to stare, wondering what his father would do next. Because Big Bad Bart always had an answer, Chuck was sure of it. Especially when it came to Misty. Bart always made things better after one of her mood swings. Even if it was for a short amount of time.

Neither of the males heard the sirens outside or the elevator ding. But when someone called out, Chuck heard it. He looked at his father, who seemed to be captivated by the brunette woman's beauty.

Chuck finally left his room to see who had arrived.

Two EMTs and two police officers were heading towards the stairs and stopped when they saw the young boy halfway down.

He tried to smile. See, his father had it all planned. But no smile came because Chuck knew it was too late.

"Hello. Your father called. Said your –" an EMT, and stopped when Chuck pointed up the stairs.

"My mom," he gulped.

The group climbed the stairs.

"My dad's here," he led them back to his room.

The EMTs immediately went to the bed while the female cop turned to Chuck. The male went to Bart and picked up the bottle of Vodka and pills and began talking. The medics joined in.

"Charles, right?" the woman bent down to his eye level.

He nodded.

"You found her?" she prompted.

Chuck finally turned away from the group by his bed. The medics weren't doing anything. He looked at the cop. She had short dirty blond hair and a kind, soft smile. He nodded.

"Yeah. I got home and no one was here. Then I came to my room and saw my mom on my bed. And I touched her. She's cold," his voice cracked at the end and he tried to blink back tears.

They weren't doing anything. That meant she was dead, right?

"She's dead, isn't she?" he whispered to the cop.

"Does it happen often? The house being empty?" she asked instead of answering his question.

He shrugged. "Not really. My dad doesn't like it empty."

Before any more questions could be asked, Bart strolled over; his face blank.

"Are you done asking my son questions?"

The officer nodded and stood upright.

"Then I'm going to take him to a friend's house."

"But…but, Mom," Chuck pointed. He didn't want to leave her.

"I'm going to take you to the Waldorf's."

Chuck shook his head. "No. I don't want to go to Blair's! I want to be with Mom!" he shouted as the tears finally broke free.

"Will you give us a minute?" he turned to the other adults. They nodded and walked out of the room.

"Charles," Bart began, but Chuck ran from him and onto his bed, holding his ice cold mother. "No!"

"Mommy," he whispered.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5: Mute

**Disclaimer:** 'Gossip Girl' belongs to Cecily von Ziegesar, Josh Schwartz, and the CW. No copyright infringement intended.  
**Author's Note: **This story is AU as of 2x05. And, yes, I know I've written a few pieces about Misty, but, for this story's sake, forget it all. This was thought of before the big reveal. Before I started really writing about Chuck and his parents. So, please, please, please disregard my previous writings about Chuck's parents.

Also: the ENTIRE chapter is a **FLASHBACK**!

* * *

_**March 1999 –**_

"_I'm going to take you to the Waldorf's."_

The phrase kept repeating in his head as Bart Bass took him to his friend's place. He still hadn't wanted to leave the house, but he had no choice.

He tried to stop them from moving her body, but his father held him back as they wrapped her in a black bag and carried her out of the penthouse and into the Manhattan streets.

The salty tears continued to drop and Chuck didn't care. He just wanted her back. He wanted to wake up from the nightmare he was having during his last class of the day. And when he would come home, his mother would be waiting and asking about his day. They'd go into the kitchen and she'd make them sandwiches and they'd eat while he told her a minute-by-minute account and how he was better at something than Blair Waldorf. Misty Bass would laugh and make a comment about their competition and how Chuck _liked_ the girl. And then Chuck would say no and tell his mother about Blair-and-Nate. _Again._ Because the woman seemed to always forget.

Yes, that's how it was supposed to have gone.

But he wasn't waking up.

Eventually he started to stare blankly at the walls and ignored his father's words.

Bart realized that his son had become numb and just took him by the hand and led him to the waiting limo outside.

The Waldorf's was the best place. Chuck would be with someone his own age and Dorota would get him to eat something. Plus, Bart needed a lawyer's opinion, and besides his own lawyer, a friend would be perfect.

The duo arrived and Bart held his son's hand as they made it up the elevator and inside the penthouse.

He had called Harold before to inform the Waldorfs of their arrival.

Harold Waldorf was a kind, friendly man; not something usually seen in high society lawyers.

He greeted the Basses with a warm smile and a "Hello."

The smile dropped at the sight of the young boy who had tear-stained cheeks. The boy looked like he was in a trance. His eyes were glazed over and his hand was holding tightly to his father's.

"Charles, why don't you go upstairs to Blair?" Bart said.

There was no movement from him and Harold looked at Bart with confusion. The lawyer was not aware of what had just happened.

"Dorota!" he called behind him to the maid.

She scurried over within seconds. "Yes, Mr. Waldorf?"

"Dorota, will you please take Charles upstairs to Blair?"

The maid nodded and waited for the boy to come to her, but he didn't move.

Bart started to remove his son's grip on his hand and Dorota rushed over and took the hand. Chuck lifelessly followed along.

"So, Bart, what is this about? Is he all right?" Harold asked, concerned.

**

* * *

**

"Miss Blair. Mr. Chuck here," Dorota called out as she opened the door to her young mistress's room.

Blair was sitting on her bed and reading her history textbook when the door opened. She looked up with a smile. "Hey, Chuck!" she beamed. "Do you want to study for the history test next week?" she asked.

He blinked and just stared at the wall in front of him.

Dorota pulled her hand out of his and gave Blair a sad smile. She left.

Blair was confused now. Chuck always had something to say.

**

* * *

**

Blair didn't know what to do. Chuck Bass was one of her closest friends; they had known each other for over two years. And for as long as she'd known him, he was never blank; so out of this world. It scared her.

The silence was making her uncomfortable and she hated that feeling; she hated things that were not how they were supposed to be.

So Blair hopped off the bed and stood in front of the boy, blocking his path to the wall. But he only stared right through her.

"Chuck?" she called out to him.

Nothing.

She gripped his shoulders and shook him. He blinked and finally looked at her.

Good, so she was getting somewhere.

She gave him a smile.

He didn't return it.

She wasn't sure what to do, but standing around was only giving her anxieties so she pulled him along to the bed and he sat down.

The two sat in silence and Blair kept glancing over at him, but he was still staring blankly at whatever was in front of him.

She looked around her room and landed on the history book she had been reading. And then she remembered school.

Light bulb!

"Oh, have you finished the math homework? Because I'm having some trouble with it. And you understand this. Can you help me?"

No response. The room lapsed into silence again.

Suddenly, she shivered; the hairs on her arms and back of the neck stood up. She whipped her head to face the boy.

Blair gasped and jumped in her spot.

Chuck Bass was staring at her. But instead of the dull eyes he had when he arrived, they were dark.

"You scared me!"

He still wasn't verbally responding, but he did nod.

The action confused her for a moment before she realized he was saying yes to helping her.

Truthfully, she hadn't even looked at the homework, and she did understand most of it. (They had only begun multiplication three weeks ago.) But, if it got him out of whatever mood he was in for whatever reason he wasn't saying, then she'd pretend to need help.

"Okay, let me get it." She hopped off the bed and over to the backpack beside her desk. She grabbed the book and paper and turned to him. She paused for a moment and went back to her bed.

It was quiet as they worked. There were even some things Blair did need help on – like word problems. He helped her by showing her how to do it slowly. She understood even without voiced explanations.

By the time Dorota entered the room with a tray of dinner at six, the math was complete and history was read.

Blair was confused. "We're eating in my room?"

"Yes, Miss Blair. Your mama say just this once."

"What?" she turned to her study buddy. "What's going on, Chuck? My mother never lets me eat in my room. Something is clearly wrong."

He only moved up the bed until his back was against the wall with a pillow sandwiched between.

She sighed and brought the food to him. But he did not touch anything. She only ate some of the salad before she became nauseous with anxiety.

This time, when silence was too much, she grabbed her reading book. "Do you want to read?"

He just continued to stare. So she began reading, first in her head. But after five minutes, his silent presence made her jumpy. She began reading out loud, pretending he was listening.

**

* * *

**

At around eight, Bart Bass and Harold Waldorf entered Blair's room.

The girl looked up and put on a smile. "Hello, Daddy, Mr. Bass."

Bart nodded his head in greeting, gaze fixated on his son. But to her he asked, "How is he?"

She looked at her companion and back to the men. "I don't know. He hasn't talked at all. He usually stares at the wall."

Bart's jaw hardened.

Harold put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "He's in shock, Bart."

"What happened?" the little girl spoke up. Her voice hitched. Why would Chuck be in shock?

"Blair-Bear, please, not now."

"But I want to help. I can't help if I don't understand." She turned to the boy and back to the adults. "It's scaring me."

Both men flinched at the words and the anxious tone.

Harold immediately went to his daughter's side and hugged her tightly. "Things will be okay, in time," he told her, but loud enough for both Basses to hear, too.

Blair finally let her father go and moved closer to Chuck, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him.

Harold turned away, but Bart couldn't. And he saw the single tear fall before his son returned the hug.

Blair held him tighter as he began trembling and her shirt was stained with salt.

Bart left the room and Harold followed. He found the man taking slow, deep breaths.

"Bart, why don't you let him sleep here?"

"I doubt he'll get any sleep. He found her in his bed."

"I'll give him something to knock him out for the night."

Bart nodded his consent.

**

* * *

**

She watched him sleep, unable to do so herself. _Roman Holiday_ was playing when her door creaked open and her father peaked in.

"You're still up," he entered and sat on the edge of the bed. His gaze turned to the young boy. Blair's followed.

"Daddy…" she started. "What happened?"

Harold beckoned her to him and gave her a big hug like he did earlier. It didn't alleviate her worries, but she returned the affection. After a few minutes, Harold let his daughter go.

"Daddy?" she questioned again.

"You should get some sleep," was his only response.

"But…"

"Blair, we'll talk tomorrow," his tone final.

She nodded and went under the covers and her father tucked her in.

"Do you want to finish the movie?"

Blair looked at the screen, forgetting she started the film. She shook her head and he shut it off.

"Good night, Blair-Bear," he kissed her forehead.

"Night, Daddy. I love you."

"Love you, too." He took another look at the sleeping boy before closing the door behind him as he left the kids.

**

* * *

**

Blair woke up naturally the next morning at 8:30. She turned on her side and sat up when she saw the sleeping boy. She blinked and yesterday came back to her.

She carefully left the bed, went to her closet, and headed into her bathroom.

When she came out, she was showered and dressed in jeans and a purple blouse.

As she moved close to the bed to check on her friend, his head turned and she gasped in surprised.

He didn't say anything; just stared at her.

It took her a minute before she turned away from his lifeless brown gaze. But she walked to her bed and sat beside him. "You're awake."

His eyes followed her movement as he remained silent.

"How long have you been up?"

He carelessly shrugged; his eyes still vacant.

"Chuck, please tell me what's wrong!" she pleaded.

Silence was her answer.

Sighing, she stood up and moved to her door. "I'm going to get Dorota to make breakfast."

Blair left her room and went downstairs to the kitchen where she spotted her maid. "Dorota," she called to her.

"Yes, Miss Blair."

"Where are my parents?"

"Your mama working and your papa with Mr. Bass. Says no school today," she answered.

Blair nodded, trying to figure out why Mr. Bass needed a lawyer and where was Mrs. Bass?

"I make breakfast," Dorota said, snapping her charge out of her thoughts. "Waffles?"

Blair shook her head. "No. Chuck hates waffles. French toast," she corrected.

"Yes, Miss Blair. I get you when ready."

"Thank you," and she went back upstairs.

Where she found her friend in the same spot.

**

* * *

**

By 9:30, they had finished breakfast. She ate two slices of French toast and some fruit with orange juice. Chuck managed to take one bite of the food, but nothing more besides orange juice.

Blair wasn't sure what else they could do. Her father said they'd talk, but he was gone. And her homework was finished, too. Chuck wasn't any help, but after Dorota returned from doing dishes, she brought over a 550-piece puzzle of a greenhouse garden. Blair smiled and began taking out all of the pieces and turning them face up on the dining room table. She then began putting the edge pieces into a pile before starting on the frame.

Chuck watched her as he sat beside the girl, but he made no movement to help.

Within 10 minutes, the edges were complete.

"All right, how about we start with this area," she pointed to a section on the pictured box.

She went right to work without waiting for a response, knowing she wouldn't get anything.

Another 15 minutes passed and Blair was finding the 550-piece puzzle a bit difficult. She managed to put together a small cluster of pieces, but was missing one in particular to complete it, which made her frustrated.

Suddenly, Chuck reached into the pile, picked up a piece, and put it into the hole.

"What?" she looked at him. He only picked up another piece and put it into place.

**

* * *

**

For lunch, Blair had a yogurt parfait and fruit. Chuck only worked on the puzzle.

With the two of them working diligently, the puzzle was complete by one.

"Do you want to watch TV? I don't know what's on." She moved to the family room and grabbed the remote. Chuck was right behind her. As she motioned to press the on button, he reached out and finally spoke.

"No!"

Startled, she dropped the remote and gasped at him. "What?"

He froze.

She had no clue what just happened, but said the first thing that came to mind. "Don't like soap operas?"

His eyes widened in terror.

Blair sat down on the love seat and patted the spot next to her. He sat.

Instead of asking again, she let the silence happen and waited for him to speak.

After six minutes, he lifted his legs up on the sofa to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and rested his chin on his knees, looking at her.

"She's dead," he whispered into the silent penthouse.

Blair's mouth dropped open wordlessly. She closed her mouth for a moment before trying again. She wasn't going to ask _who_; that was obvious. And sorry wouldn't do anything. After silence for another few minutes, she went a different direction.

"Let's go get Dorota to make brownies. And we'll eat them all before my mother get's home." She stood up and extended her hand to him.

He paused before taking it.

"Thank you."

**.tbc.**


End file.
